


Loud

by sinisterkid92



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 18:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinisterkid92/pseuds/sinisterkid92
Summary: Things get steamy in the bunker





	Loud

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is pure smut. And I was tipsy borderline drunk (probably drunk) when I wrote this bc I'm a lightweight and had some wine with my Saturday night.... so don't judge too hard.
> 
> Also, this is romanticized sex x100 like this is fic sex like it is. No realness here but hopefully it gets you what you're looking for. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Lucy had asked herself the same question way too often lately. How did she get here? Time travel had that effect, especially when you landed on the doorstep of people who were famous and infamous in American history. Sometimes, the situations were of the calibre that she had to ask herself that question.

This time, however, the question was posed differently. In her head, that was. Already on her back, with little memory of how exactly that came to be, with her legs wrapped around Flynn’s shoulders – vodka was involved, surprisingly not as much as she thought it would take. There would be no pounding headache in the morning but she was sure that she wouldn’t be entirely unaffected by it. With the alcohol swimming between her ears she could admit it to herself, that this is something she’d wanted for a long time, though in the morning that confession would come by harder. 

He was there now, between her legs, head buried and mouth, tongue, brushing against her, licking sucking until she no longer felt the passing of time just became a single vibrating sensation of pleasure. Two fingers were inside of her. There was a rhythm, something, she was too lost in it all to pay attention to anything but the curling of his fingers, the friction, his mouth. 

“Flynn,” she gasped, grabbing at his hair – it had grown longer, long enough to grab, she would need to help him cut it soon – torn between pulling him closer to her and pulling him away, “I need, I need.” She wanted, needed, it all. A moan escaped her as he added another finger, stretching friction it was too much and not enough at the same time. “I want you,” she managed to gasp. 

Her entire body felt like livewiring. How did she get here? They had been talking, there had been drinking but that wasn’t the first time. They did this often. Talk and drink and fall asleep like there was nothing more to it. But then somewhere she’d kissed him. They’d been sitting close, whispering words of some kind or another and she’d seen something flicker in his eyes. That’s when she leaned over to kiss him, but he hadn’t kissed her back. No, instead she had faced the horrifying realization that she had completely misread him and completely messed everything up.

He’d watched her, face stoic and unresponsive to her quick apology. She’d gotten halfway through an “I’m sorry can we just-” when he grabbed her face and kissed her. Kissed her like they did in the movies. Mouths clashing and desperate for breath and for the other person. Like she weighed no more than a feather he had pulled her to him and flipped them onto the bed, causing it to screech and protest under them, and he fit between her legs like he was born to be there. Already half hard she had felt him press against her through their thin pyjamas, delicious friction. 

His hand was already under her shirt, on her breasts. No bra, she’d taken it off hours ago. His thumb brushed her nipple, then he pulled the shirt up higher, exposing her to him. His mouth found her other breast, sucking, licking, his teeth brushing against them, a foreshadowing of what was to come. 

Now, he was between her legs. “Garcia.” She pulled on his hair, pulled him up to her. His smile told her she knew. His wet smile and mouth that tasted like her when she kissed him. His tongue against her own, the wet deep sinful kisses that made her weak in the knees. Like she wasn’t already. Like she wasn’t pulled taught and about to break. 

A single thrust and he was in her. Deep, knocking the breath out of her. He completely filled her, each thrust seemingly seeking to sink in further and she scrambled, scrambled to hold onto anything. She sunk her fingers into his back, his ass, anywhere she could find to get some purchase. Quick thrust followed long rolling ones, keeping her on her toes and all she wanted was more. 

“I love how you sound,” he whispered in her ear. His thrust were getting quicker, he too was getting too lost in this to do anything more than to succumb. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling unable to move, unable to speak, unable to utter a single sound at all exploded in her. A crescendo built in her belly, a pressure she was familiar with. She knew the cliff was approaching, the explosion was near. 

It was like falling, but falling and knowing someone would catch you. Later she would reflect on why something she’d experienced so many times before felt that different with him. It was that. Trust. Never had she trusted anyone the way she trusted him, even when she shouldn’t have. 

White noise and flashes pashed before her eyes, she was falling apart and falling together all at once. Somewhere, in the distance, she could feel him too. Feel him come apart after her, following. 

After, when he’d slipped out of her and they were somewhere between sleeping and awake, he chuckled softly. 

“What?” she asked, voice low and barely audible even to him with his ear just by her mouth. 

“I think we woke the bunker up.” He was smiling like that, the way he did when they were in the car some many weeks ago, content and happy. “You are very responsive,” he paused for a second, his smile slipping into something of mischief, “and very loud.”


End file.
